"You mite," he whispered, "you little, silvery-gold princess. When we're married I'm afraid I'll worry every time you're out of my sight."
"That'll be nice," Anne said a little sharply, but she was very tired.
Roger looked down quickly.
"Anne, when are you going to tell your people? It makes me feel as if you weren't sure yourself. You said at first that you wanted to 'gloat' all by yourself; that's very flattering and I believe it when we're together, but, sometimes after I've left you, I feel—Anne, you are sure, aren't you?"
"Of course I am."
"Don't they expect you ever to marry?"
"Why, I suppose so. We never talked about it."
"Is it me, 'specially, they would object to?"
For a moment Anne hesitated. At last he was giving her the chance. Should she take it? But before she could quite make up her mind Roger was pleading again, and suddenly Anne felt her strength exhausted. She would not evade or pretend any more. It might as well come now as later.
"All right, dear, if you feel that way. Come up to-night."